


An Englishman's Passion

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: British TV Celebrities RPF, Chef RPF, Italy Unpacked (TV) RPF
Genre: Ficlet, First Kiss, First Time, Language Kink, M/M, Shyness, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 12:38:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16765315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: "It was a mistake. It was... this ... all of this - the romantic dinner, the moonlit night... the magic of bloody Italia! And... and you - you're so--""Bello?" Giorgio winked, and the other man's face ran red."Perhaps," he squeaked.Andrew finds, one night, that the Italian passion is brought right out of him, and he ends up kissing Giorgio over the dinner table. A short ficlet written for a pairing I love, and an absolutely excellent programme - this was written before the earlier fic I posted and was the first I ever wrote for this ship.





	An Englishman's Passion

**Author's Note:**

> Italian phrases beta'd by the wonderful Mcicioni - thank you x

He smacked his knuckles against the wine glass, knocking it over, the red liquid cascading over the tablecloth. Andrew had, in one moment of madness, cleared everything which stood in his way of Giorgio. He had cleared a path to Giorgio's inviting lips. The historian was kissing him, full on the mouth, with no tongue, but with fervour.

Locatelli sprang backwards with surprise and managed to recover enough of his mouth to say, "What is this?"

"Oh my God," Andrew gasped, scrambling at the wine glass and praying that he wouldn't topple the candle and burn a hole in the cloth. He fumbled, with his hands and his words. "I am so sorry - I do not know what came over me," a sharp intake of breath revealed that the Englishman was more shocked by his _own_ actions than anyone else could have been. And Giorgio? Was - of _course_ \- being the typical Italian, who talked incessantly with that _beautiful_ mouth, and would never shut up, and would _never_ let this go.

"My my," he snorted, and smiled. "Andrew... _amico mio_... You 'ave no need to be so embarrassed," he whispered soothingly. "We are grown men. To be honest, I 'ad no idea you 'ad it in you!"

"I.. I don't have it in me," Andrew stuttered. "It was a mistake. It was... _this_ ... all of this - the romantic dinner, the moonlit night... the magic of bloody _Italia!_ And... and _you_ \- you're so--"

" _Bello?_ " Giorgio winked, and the other man's face ran red.

"Perhaps," he squeaked.

"But this is the Italian way: be passionate, be bold and courageous! Wear your 'eart on your sleeve and don'a be afraid of revealing too much. We are red blooded and we feel - _all_ of us - so don'a be afraid to show your feelings. All you did was show me your _Italian_ passion," he practically growled.

"But I'm British - not Italian," Andrew said, but only in his head, lamenting. "And this certainly wouldn't be the _British_ thing to do."

His chair screeched and the shrill noise cut a gouge out of the otherwise still air. He wandered to the balcony, hoping for more of a breeze to douse the flames in his cheeks. Now he was shrouded by darkness, where his shame could be hidden from view, the intimate light of the table's candles behind him and the gorgeous view of Matera before him, with its many dancing, twinkling lights of houses built into the rocks. It was enough to distract him from Giorgio. Or at least it would be - that _was_ if Giorgio had not followed him to the edge.

" _Andrea_ ..." the chef breathed into his ear, making him weak - making his world crumble like the ruins beneath them. Strong arms were beginning to wrap around his torso like the very vines which had made the delectable and now destroyed glass of wine on the table cloth - the wine which had made Andrew so dizzy with lust. Giorgio's body was pressed against him. He was the _toro_ , the bull, and himself the _topolino_ \- the mouse, so timid and overpowered by that lust.

"But I'm not Italian, Gio - I'm British," he shyly uttered, this time aloud.

"Well is'a time I put a little Italian _in_ you!" Locatelli exclaimed, making a beeline for his partner's mouth. Gently, and yet firmly, his tongue led the way, parting Graham-Dixon's lips and caressing the velvet-like feeling therein. One tongue started out daring - with the other a touch wary - but, within seconds, they were in perfect sync.

Andrew simply couldn't believe he was snogging Giorgio. It was something he didn't even realise he'd _wanted_ until an hour ago. He was an Englishman who was French kissing an Italian. It didn't get much more _European_ than that. And, whilst for many years he had appreciated the fineness of European art, he never dreamed he may go on to interpret the continent's more _liberal_ artworks in such a literal way. Naked Italian males wrestling with each other _did_ come to mind.

"You can put a little _more_ Italian in me if you so wish," the historian coughed as he pulled away from the kiss, not quite able to believe what he had just implied. And now it was Giorgio's turn to blush.

"Oh my," he grinned. And the grin only widened as Andrew guided his hand to his lower stomach, urging him to delve further. Gio gasped, breathily, " _Andrea... Ho cucinato con i peperoncini_..."

And Giorgio's mother tongue almost had him melting into the floor. " _Che cosa_?" he queried the meaning in what little Italian he knew in comparison.

"It means I 'ave been cooking with chillies, Andrew," he giggled, "and it will sting if I touch you _there!_ " He emphasised his point with cheeky but gentle squeeze of Andrew's package through his dark blue jeans. The excitement within was evident, and his actions elicited a moan which Graham-Dixon could not stifle. But, within seconds, they worth both laughing loudly at the predicament.

"Like one of your slow-cooked meals, Giorgio..." he smiled, devilishly "...I'm _sure_ it'll be worth waiting for!"


End file.
